


Everyone Forgets the Obliviators

by RigbylovesRugby



Series: Debilitating Stupidity [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry is obsessed with Muggle Life, M/M, Minister for Magic Tom Riddle, Ron is Ron, Sirius is trying, So is Hermione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 06:25:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19785076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RigbylovesRugby/pseuds/RigbylovesRugby
Summary: Having a man who hates all things Muggle as the Minister of Magic, and his boss, means that Harry needs to be careful not to let it slip how enthralled he is with them. But when the number of incidents of Muggles who need Obliviating becomes abnormally large, Harry can no longer avoid Minister Riddle's notice.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry rubbed his eyes and took another sip of coffee. Sweet, sweet coffee. Sighing, he finished off his report. He wasn’t paid enough for this. As if Minister Riddle would read it, anyway. Granted he had never met him, but his lack of involvement was enough to show how much the guy cared about the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Specifically, the Obliviator Headquarters, where Harry worked.

True, his job could become tedious over time, but it was fulfilling work. At least, that’s what he told his colleagues. In reality, Harry had a small (enormous) fascination (obsession) with Muggles. This department was where he could spend the most time around them without raising any more suspicion than was necessary. Especially with the stigma against muggles that only increased when Minister Riddle was elected. Damn him.

Harry got up and packed the work he needed to finish at home. He rubbed his eyes and checked the time. God, it was already midnight. These past few weeks had been terrible for his sleeping habits.

For some reason, more and more muggles needed obliviating lately, and the usually languid department was being worked to the bone. The strange thing was, the people they were obliviating could never remember what had happened to them and try as they might, neither Harry nor his colleagues were able to coax it out of them. Somehow, the muggles knew about magic, but it seemed they were blocked from remembering exactly how.

Harry’s phone rang.

“Mione?” She rarely ever used muggle technology anymore, although she was the one to introduce him.

“Please don’t tell me you’re still at work, Harry. Ron just told me you planned on staying late, but I didn’t believe it. Again, Harry? Not even I’m that busy. And I work in the Department of Mysteries. Of course, that’s not to say I consider your job to be easier, but-”

“I get it. Look, I’m on my way home now. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“You’re only just on your way? That’s ridiculous Harry! Just because you’re head of the Headquarters and McLaggen is a lazy arse doesn’t mean you have to do all the work. Especially if it’s becoming so strenuous.”

“Trust me, I know. It’s just that, I guess I feel responsible for all that’s happening. I’m sure this whole workload thing will pass by. It’s just a fluke.”

“Yes, but if you need any help in-”

“Hermione, I’m fine. I don’t need you to fix all my problems.” Harry winced at his tone and tried to make a recovery. “I’m sorry about that. I’m just tired right now. Thanks for checking in, though. Bye.” He hung up. 

Yup, absolutely stunning recovery.

* * *

A week later the workload only doubled. The office radiated nervous energy as people apparated in and out.

“Colin,” Harry said, “Any info from the bus driver?”

Colin Creevey shrugged helplessly. “Nothing but the usual. He insists he saw ‘magic people’ firing spells everywhere. That’s it. Aside from the trauma, his mind was blank.”

Harry pulled at his hair rubbed his temples. This couldn’t be possible. What kind of person performs magic in front of muggles so much? Hell, what kind of person constantly tries to obliviate them and keeps failing miserably? And in such great numbers. It was insulting. The least this person could do was find someone else to do it. Though he supposed since they couldn’t be tracked down, the wizard wasn’t really failing, was he?

“For god’s sake, you’d think…” Harry stopped. “Colin.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Get me all the information you can on all the victims.”

Colin hesitated.

“Please,” Harry said, “I need this”

“…Of course, sir.”

Colin looked unsure of where to start. The rest of the department appeared skeptical. They didn’t usually dive too deep in the lives of muggles. Even Harry, the one most enthusiastic about muggles, steered clear of their personal lives. But Harry knew he was getting somewhere now. Because he was right. No person could do this. Especially not accidentally. A group of people, however, with the proper incentive… well, that was a different story.

A flying memo crashed into Harry. He straightened it out before opening it. The Ministry really needed to work on their delivery system. If this were a more muggle institution, they’d be using emails or, even better, text messages. Harry fawned just thinking about it. The efficiency of it all was so un-wizarding like, Harry was destined to love it.

_Harry,_

_Come to the Lunch Hall, quick. We need you._

_Ron_

Alarmed, Harry grabbed his papers and walked to the door, finishing off the last bit of coffee before throwing the cup away.

“You guys just carry on what you’re doing.” He said, absently. “Tell Colin to leave anything he finds on my desk.

Harry made his way to the Lunch hall as fast as he could, hoping Ron wasn’t pulling some kind of joke again. He’d come, anyway. On the off-chance there was an actual danger, Harry would always be there. Moody thought he would make a great Auror because of this, but Sirius said he was far too passive to ever be any good at it. Well, he didn’t say that exactly, but that’s what he meant. Because Harry wasn’t the strong James or determined Lily that Sirius knew. He was just Harry.

“Harry!” Ron said from across the hall. “Get over here!”

Tonks sat next to him, her red hair suggesting she was more than mildly annoyed.

“Harry, can you please tell Nymphadora that going by her last name doesn’t make her cool.” Ron said, looking pleased with himself in the smuggest way possible.

“Harry, could you please tell Ron that I would feel threatened by someone else going by their last name too if I had one like Weasley.”

Ron spluttered. “Piss off, Dora”

“With pleasure, Weasel.”

Tonks stood up and walked away from the table. She winked at Harry, seeming to have calmed down already. “Wotcher, Harry!”

Harry smiled back. “Good to see you, Tonks. Are you alright?” He said, referring to her conversation with Ron.

She shrugged. “You’ve gotta learn to deal with idiots when you’re an Auror.” Her hair was back to its usual purple color. “Speaking of which, be sure to visit Sirius soon, he’s been almost as insufferable as Ron lately. He misses you.”

Harry blushed. “Of course, I’ve just been busy lately.”

“Haven’t we all?” Her smile was a tired one now. She left before Harry could respond.

Ron was still eating his lunch. His ears were pink. “You’re a saint for dealing with her, Harry, honestly. She’s horrible.”

Harry rolled his eyes and sat down at the table. “So was there an actual reason you called me, or…?”

“I just figured you needed a break.”

“You really shouldn’t do that anymore. Hermione would kill you. Or even worse, lecture you.” Harry thought it would probably sound like ‘As an Auror, Ronald, you should be setting an example towards the people you’re supposed to protect, not stop them from doing their jobs. And as for you, Harry, I expected more.’

“Nah, she’s on my side for once. You’ve been wearing yourself thin on this.” He took a bite of his sandwich.

“Fun choice of words.” Harry was definitely sleep deprived. He stared at Ron’s sandwich absent-mindedly. “’ I feel thin… stretched. Like butter scraped over too much bread.”

“Well, I can summon some butter if you want.” He said, mouth full.

“Never mind. It was just a Muggle reference. I’d better be going now.” He picked up his papers again. He wondered why he brought them. He really was obsessed.

Ron wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Oh, Harry, before I forget, Minister Riddle is checking up on your Department tomorrow.”

Harry stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“What?” 

“No, I what-ed first and you know exactly what I’m referring to.” Harry paused. “And how are you aware of this before I am?”

“What?” Harry glared. “Sorry. Percy told me to give you a head’s up. Remember, he’s junior undersecretary? Honestly, for someone so smart you can be a real idiot.” Ron ate an every-flavor bean and gagged. “He said that Riddle will be looking at the Obliviator Headquarters specifically.”

The Minister had never taken an interest in Harry’s department, never mind his Office. Ministers usually didn’t, from what he’d gathered.

Ron saw the troubled look on Harry’s face. “Hey, I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s probably just there to oversee management or something. You know, since work has increased. Who knows? Maybe he wants to congratulate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right.” Harry sincerely doubted it.

* * *

Harry found the papers he asked for on his desk when he got back. He made sure to finish his reports early so that he could inspect them properly. He didn’t know what he was expecting to come from it. 

Logically, he knew that there wasn’t some kind of conspiracy taking place right under the Ministry’s nose. That would be ridiculous. Still, he had to be sure.

Looking through the documents, he saw nothing worth knowing at first. He glanced over everything a few times and decided that the most interesting thing about these people were the claims they made after exposure to magic. Then he felt bad about thinking like that and decided that papers put together by wizards were likely to be biased. At least, that was his excuse when he chose to look them up on the internet and throw those papers in the bin. It definitely wasn’t for convenience’s sake.

Harry’s heart rate gradually increased as the coincidences piled up too high to look away from. Every single one of these people had friends or family or neighbors who died recently. Some even had multiple. They were pretty spread out, as far as geography went. But one thing stayed the same: local muggle news sights consistently reported “black-robed figures with creepy masks”.

He did this research as the last of the wizards in the department were going home. He reminded himself that doing a little extra research wasn’t illegal and that no one could blame him for it. There was no need to be secretive. In fact, he was so open about what he was doing that if the Minister of Magic himself walked in he would-

“This is it, right?” A rough voice asked.

“It should be. It looks like Riddle said it would.”

The voices were right outside of headquarters. Instinctively, Harry hid under the desk. He hated that that was still instinct after all these years.

The footsteps were getting closer. Harry was glad he couldn’t see them. He was terrified of them being one of those “black-robed figures”. He heard the door open.

“Hey, Blaise, check this out.” Surely, that voice wasn’t Draco Malfoy’s. Surely it wasn’t talking to Blaise Zambini. Drawling voices and men named Blaise were common nowadays, right?

“Who needs this much paper? How are we gonna find anything in all of this?”

“What would you expect? This office is brimming with mudbloods. I always knew they lived like pigs.”

“Well, ‘Mudbloods live like pigs’ isn’t going to save our skins when our Lord asks us why we couldn’t complete a simple mission.”

“The Minister won’t have to ask us, we’ll find it.” 

Their Lord? The Minister? Harry’s stomach sunk. This was getting far too real and far too bizarre.

“Knowing Potter, he’d put it in- Hey, what’s that in the bin?” Draco asked.

“Your dignity?”

“Ha Ha. You’re so funny.” He saw legs kneeling down. “Woah.”

“What?”

“I was actually right!” He cleared his throat. “I mean, with my clever skills of deduction, I reasoned that because mudbloods are so impulsive, they’d throw the only useful information in this department where it couldn’t be used.”

Well done, Sherlock.

“Wow, good for you,” Blaise said with mock enthusiasm. “Can we go now?”

“Of course we can, I figured it out didn’t I?” He heard them walk out.

Harry only rose from his hiding spot after ten minutes. It took ten more minutes for him to gather his wits enough to postpone making a plan of action and go home.

But Harry didn’t catch a wink of sleep. How could he when his mind was turning all night? Despite his lack of sleepiness, he was late to work again. Harry liked to think he had a good work ethic, but punctuality just wasn’t his thing. At least he made up for it with the hours he stayed late.

Oh, how he wished he just left the research alone and went home. He’d much rather be ignorant and hard-working than fully aware of what he was allowing to happen and unable to stop it. Because of course the Minister couldn’t just be a run-of-the-mill blood supremacist git. He was the leader of a cult that murdered muggles. Because why not? On the bright side, he had plenty of time to figure out how he should confront this… problem. 

Contrasting Harry’s gloomy state, the department was more lively than usual. It buzzed with the energy of a house expecting visitors. 

“Harry!” Colin said, racing up to him, breathing hard. “I… brought… your coffee.” 

“Oh, thanks?” Harry said confused. He didn’t think he was to the point where people brought him coffee, was he?

“I… figured you’d need it. What with all that’ll go down and everything…” His breath came back to him. “And Harry, if I were you, I wouldn’t mention the research you’ve been doing. The Minister isn’t very fond of muggles.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Of course, you probably already knew that. Just good luck!” Colin ran to complete some other work elsewhere, leaving Harry confused.

It took an embarrassingly long time for Harry to remember. The Minister would be visiting today.


	2. Chapter 2

All of his friends would attest to Harry living by the phrase ‘any way the wind blows’. He was always there, blending into the crowd. A hook for others to hang their things on. Even during his O.W.L’s and N.E.W.T’s, he was content in achieving the bare minimum of what was acceptable. It was why he’d never make a good Slytherin. To him, ambition may as well have been a foreign word. 

And yet for some reason, Harry couldn’t stand by and watch this time. Not even long enough to formulate a proper plan. Not while muggle lives were at stake. Wasn’t that the very reason he signed up for this position? Didn’t he want to make sure they were always blissfully ignorant of the horrible Wizarding World Harry lived in? But still, this wasn’t exactly his forte. He wasn’t the hero about to swoop in and save the day.

He needed to tell someone. Have someone more experienced in these things take care of it. Law Enforcement? No, he couldn’t risk it. Not while Ron and Sirius worked there. Department of Mysteries? He trusted Hermione to be level-headed, but the place was too unpredictable for him to try his luck. He didn’t have many other friends in the Ministry. No one would take him, the aloof muggle-lover, seriously on a sunny day. While he was carrying a claim like this? He’d be sent to St. Mungos before noon. 

He paced around his office, thinking. He heard orders being spouted out the door. It appeared as though Head of Department was actually in the Department. Cormac McLaggen usually flirted with witches in the atrium throughout his work hours. No one noticed, and if they did, they didn’t care. Harry had learned long ago just how over-looked the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes was. 

“Potter!” Cormac shouted. “Get over here. Now!”

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair and went to the main hall where Cormac was. 

“Yeah?” He said, ambling over. He had no respect for his supposed superior and he wasn’t going to act as if he did.

Cormac had a vein throbbing in the left side of his forehead and Harry couldn’t stop staring at it. “Are you in charge of the Obliviator Headquarters?”

“Last I checked.”

“Then why is it such a mess in here, when everywhere else is spotless?”

“Well, we’ve been working very hard lately, so tidying up hasn’t exactly been at the forefront of our minds.”

Cormac laughed humorlessly. “You’ve been working hard. Have you mistaken your job for Senior Under-Secretary to the minister or something?” He mocked. “I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised, I always knew you weren’t all there. But you know what, Harry? I don’t give two shits about what you do here.” He paused for emphasis. “On any other day. But the Minister’s visiting, and what do I have to show him after all this time?!”

“Well, maybe he should just carry on ignoring us like he’s always done and mind his own business. But he won’t. Not while his precious plans of terrorism are at stake.” He said this last bit to himself. He wasn’t expecting a cool voice to answer from the entrance.

“And just what plans are you referring to, detective?” Minister Riddle was here.  
Harry sharply turned to face the man. Riddle leaned against the doorframe, smiling. His eyes were red. Harry had seen the photos. Riddle had brown eyes. Brown. Not even remotely close to red. He must be in big trouble. Refusing to let his apprehension be known, he put his hands in his pockets and casually appraised the Minister. 

Riddle returned the favor. 

McLaggen cleared his throat and shifted in his stance. “I need to check if there are any workers in the Atrium.” He gave a shaky nod before he left. “Minister Riddle.”

Alone with the Minister. Wasn’t this great? Wasn’t it wonderful? Wouldn’t Harry love to kill himself right now because he was such an incorrigible idiot?

“Would you like to sit down?” Harry asked. Maybe if he played dumb the Minister would forget he even existed. He cleared the sofa. Why did they even have a sofa? “I can go get you some tea. Or coffee if you prefer it, I know I do. Never could stand tea. Not to say I wouldn’t be willing to get you some if you really wanted a cup.”

The look on the Minister’s face told Harry just how well this was working.

Harry dropped the façade. He never could stick to a plan for too long, anyway. “Look, if you have something to say just say it.”

Riddle’s eyes cooled down and Harry dared hope that he was out of the fire and back in the less terrifying pan. 

“Excuse my manners from earlier, Mr.…” 

“Potter.” Harry was behind the sofa. Riddle was in front. 

“Well, how is it, Mr. Potter, that I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you before now?”

It might have something to do with your perceived superiority over us commoners on the third level. Harry smiled widely. “I’d like to say that it’s all been a part of my master plan to maintain a low profile or something.” Harry said, hoping his youth would be mistaken for naivety, “But I’m afraid that I’m just not all that interesting.” 

“Really? Because I find myself inclined to believe the former.” Well, Harry found himself inclined to punch the steadily approaching Riddle in the face, but you didn’t see him complaining about it. 

Harry shrugged. “Suits me fine. Try not to get too disappointed, though.” Not that he minded disappointment anymore, he thought, thinking of Sirius.

“I won’t be,” Riddle said with annoying confidence. He held the bottom of Harry’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. “Do you still insist on avoiding the topic at hand?”

Harry stepped away. “Isn’t that what you politicians are known for, ‘avoiding the topic at hand’?” 

“Do you have a problem with me, Harry?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “I didn’t tell you my first name.” Was Riddle keeping an eye on him already? Harry thought he was being careful.

“It’s amazing the things one can overhear,” Tom said, walking around the sofa and closer to Harry. “What I couldn’t gather from the conversation, however, is what it is you’ve convinced yourself I’m planning.”

Harry wouldn’t let himself be insulted in his own workplace. Well, he supposed it was more Riddle’s workplace than his, but still. The Minister circled around Harry, clearly amused by his rising temper. 

Perhaps he was being foolish, baited by the more experienced Minister, but Harry couldn’t stop himself from asserting his awareness of the situation. “I know what you and your pals are doing.” Pals? Merlin, he was becoming more stupid by the second. Where did he leave the coffee Colin gave him, again?

“Oh, and just what do you think we’re doing,” Tom’s tone was less playful now. Harry took that as a victory, “Harry?” 

Harry buried his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He stepped away from the circle Riddle was creating around him and sat at his desk, gathering his papers. 

“Let’s see here,” he said, reading his notes. “You lead a group of followers who address you as their lord, which sounds like something right out of a bad fantasy movie, by the way. You and your men have been orchestrating attacks on muggles throughout England and staging them as accidents or regular murders. Not to mention this group is unauthorized by the Ministry; a tad awkward considering your position.” He thought of something, then. “I see you’ve taken care not to let the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee catch wind. It makes me wonder, did you really just forget about us Obliviators, or were you certain that none of us were capable of putting two and two together? That we’d never realize only a powerful wizard could be able to cast a blanket spell on any witnesses of your crimes, making them forget just enough? They do let anyone with a wand work in these headquarters, after all.” The last part was said bitterly, being something Harry heard whispered around the Ministry on a daily basis. 

Riddle stayed silent for a while, still smiling. He moved toward Harry and examined a photo that stood framed on his desk. 

“You sound awfully passionate about these attacks, Mr. Potter.” His red eyes returned with a vengeance and stared at him challengingly. “Are you worried about your own family?”

“I’m a half-blood.”

“Infinitely interesting, as any information from you is, but it doesn’t answer my question.” 

Harry stared back. “No. I haven’t spoken to them in years.”

Riddle’s head tilted to the left, eyes still boring into him. “I find myself believing you, Mr. Potter, which leaves your situation all the more perplexing.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Minister, but I’m not the type of person one dwells on for too long. I didn’t accomplish anything, really. I was simply in a position where your intentions could only be seen as painfully obvious.”

Riddle laughed. The sound made Harry more uncomfortable than he would care to admit. 

“And yet, others in more favorable positions found them anything but.” The Minister responded. 

Harry sensed that trying to deflect attention away from himself wouldn’t work as well here as it did in other places. Not while Riddle was looking at him like he was the One Ring. He wondered if that made Riddle Gollum, but quickly put that thought away. 

“I trust you won’t let anyone know of this information you’ve acquired.”

Harry snorted. “You’d have to kill me to keep me quiet.” Harry really was an idiot. At least no one could say he didn’t belong in Gryffindor. 

Riddle smiled and picked up the photo he’d been examining earlier off of Harry’s desk. “That sounds like something Auror Black would say. Lovely picture. Might I ask how you know him?”

“He’s my godfather,” Harry responded coldly. 

“Well, it’s nice to have little mementos like this. After all, it’s dangerous business being an Auror.”

“Is that a threat, Minister?”

“Simply an observation, Harry. You’re good at making those, it seems. The meanings you acquire from observations, however, can be rather threatening, can’t they?”

* * *

Harry, for the first time in weeks, was going home when he was supposed to. He wasn’t going to risk a run-in with Riddle alone at night. As he packed his things- because Riddle wasn’t going to keep him from work, too- he felt someone grab his arm and pull him into a hug.

“Ouf,” he said, “Careful with the bones, Sirius.” But he leaned into the hug anyway. 

“Sorry, Prongslet, it’s just I haven’t seen you in so long.” Sirius pulled away and examined him. “Have you gotten taller?”

“Not since sixth year, no.” Harry’s eyes darted left to right, hoping the red eyes wouldn’t come to haunt him. Sirius read his thoughts

“How was the inspection with Riddle?” His godfather seemed worried. Maybe he wasn’t the only one suspicious of the Minister. 

“Oh, you know, just how you’d expect. I still don’t get why it was necessary now of all times. A little respect for our time would be nice.”

Sirius smiled and patted him on the back. “Well, just hope he doesn’t make a habit out of it. He can be a real nightmare in the Auror Department. The others can’t seem to get enough of him though, but I knew you’d be on my side when it came to him. It’s a shame you couldn’t have joined me as an Auror like your father did. We could’ve hated him together.”

Here it was. “Well I’m not James.”

“I know, I know. It’s just, you remind me of him so much, sometimes. He wouldn’t like Riddle, either. Oh, speak of the devil!”

Harry knew the Minister was behind him before he turned around. Sirius stepped in front of Harry in much the same way he did when Vernon came near him. 

“Minister Riddle, we missed you at the office today.”

The Minister gave a regretful look that couldn’t possibly be sincere. “I’m afraid I was pre-occupied on the third floor. I hope I didn’t miss anything.” It was a question.

“Tonks and Ron were ready to kill each other without your supervision, but other than that, things were rather smooth.” Of course they were. Riddle was probably preventing them from finding any sort of trouble. “I hope your visit went well.”

Sirius seemed rather placid to Harry. His usual raging flame was a nightlight in the Minister’s presence. Did he really have that much influence over the law force? Harry dared not think what that meant for the Muggle World.

Riddle smiled charmingly at Harry. “In spite of everything, it wasn’t too bad. I had the pleasure of meeting your godson.” Harry was going to rip a hole through the bottom of his pockets at this rate. “Tell me, how is it that I’ve never heard you mention him?”

Sirius looked back at Harry, his cheeks flushed. “Well…”

“I asked him not to,” Harry said, standing beside Sirius. “I’m not very good with social situations, you see. Sirius tries to get me to branch out more, so I’m a bit surprised he listened.” He tried to sound sheepish, but Riddle’s gaze activated inexplicable anger in him.

“Well, you’ll see more of each other soon enough. Maybe then Harry can warm up to your friends, Auror Black.” Harry glared at Riddle, expecting something like this to happen. Riddle smiled back.

“Harry has his own- wait, why would we be seeing more of each other?” Confused, Sirius looked at Harry, then the Minister, then back to Harry.

“Oh, I must have forgotten to mention it to you. Harry’s being promoted.” Riddle forcibly shook Harry’s hand, prying it out of his pockets. “Congratulations on your new position as Senior Under-Secretary to the Minister of Magic, Harry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys think I should make this a series or...?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to minnie_mcgee for all the help! Especially with the summary!


End file.
